


A Common History

by crookedneighbour



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bigotry & Prejudice, Blow Jobs, Brother Feels, College, Dead Sons Survive, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Harps, Incest, Incest Play, M/M, Masturbation, Motorcycles, Musical Instruments, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedneighbour/pseuds/crookedneighbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viserys meets a conservatory student who recognizes his family name. They talk about Rhaegar and a bond forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theelusiveflamingo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/gifts).



> This is a modernized Westeros and everyone is sort of randomly there. It's an AU and everyone is alive though, so it doesn't really matter. I'm using American schooling conventions, because I know them.

Viserys found himself almost nodding off in Professor Perestan's class again. He was a dry lecturer, and he was only there because his major required at least 4 credits in history. It was disappointing. Perestan at least dressed himself well, unlike some of the other tenured geezers, Pycelle being by far the worst offender. He just always chose the most boring points to expand upon. Today's lesson had been on military history and the embankment up North which had been so promising. Instead of talking about the battles with the Indigenous Northerners (you weren't supposed to use the W-word), he had gone on about how Brandon Stark had designed and funded the campaign. He already knew plenty about how to fund campaigns as that was half the point of his whole major, wasn't it? It was all  ancient history by now anyway.

Illyrio had helped him get his scholarship so he'd know how to run a campaign when the time came. He'd run it like his father did and he didn't need to hear it from some wizened old man, and he certainly didn't need to hear what a Stark had done.

Perestan ended the class with a 10 page assignment on Northern history, It wasn't the longest paper he'd gotten, but he hated writing them all the same. Especially on somewhere as dull and gray as the North. He would have loved to write about King's Landing or Dorne or somewhere interesting, or at least not so fucking cold. Viserys hated the cold.

Viserys left class as quickly as he could. He planned to spend the evening studying while watching old episodes of "Patchface and Friends" after some redheaded girl in his major mentioned something about a fucked up lost episode. It was probably some fake creepypasta, but it was better than nothing.

As he headed for the exits, he felt a hand against his shoulder and he whipped around with a half dozen different insults in mind based on who it was, lips curled down in discomfort. In the end he said nothing, far too startled by the occurrence.

The guy who had stopped him was in his history class. Viserys had forgotten his name (Dominic maybe?), but he recognized his sharp features and weird eyes.  He had always struck him as really Northern looking even though Viserys knew not to say that kind of thing out loud by now. He was dressed well, in a khaki and red polo, and it was clear he had ironed his clothes recently. He even smelled clean. He didn't speak much in class, but when he did Perestan always seemed impressed.

"You're Rhaegar's brother aren't you?" he asked. He had a low soft voice that was somehow still quite clear.

Hearing his brother's name made him bristle immediately. Just because hey were related made people think they were entitled to ask all sorts of questions about the court case and what happened with Lyanna Stark. Every now and then he'd get people nosing around about his father being institutionalized.

"What's it to you?" Viserys snapped, pulling back from the touch.

"You just look a lot like him," his classmate answered. "I've seen his photos in the practice rooms at the Conservatory. "

"Oh..."

"I play harp," he clarified.

Like Rhaegar had. No one remembered that Rhaegar played harp.

"Cool," said Viserys, feeling like this was inadequate answer. He wasn't quite sure what else to say though.

"My name's Domeric. My father is Roose Bolton," not Dominic explained. It was almost relief he had said something.

Viserys shifted uncomfortably.

"Your father works for Ned Stark then?" Viserys asked.

He remembered the name vaguely. Something about the billing for the whole thing. Not a lawyer though.

"My father works for a lot of people. Freelance... He's an accountant," Domeric said, smiling slightly. Viserys eased at that a bit.

"When my father was a younger Rickard Stark helped arrest my grandfather," he added, almost as an afterthought. "I suppose we have a common history."

"Yeah," mumbled Viserys. Domeric had always been the first one to point out the Stark's failings in class. He had mentioned something about the irony of Brandon Stark's position and the way he had used his ancestry to convince people he was somehow qualified to decide what was best for the North.

"So um...  are you going to the cafeteria or anything now? I was gonna maybe get dinner now," Viserys lied. He was actually hungry though and all he had back in his room were candied peaches he had gotten imported from Highgarden.

"Are you asking me to eat with you?" Domeric smiled a bit.

"Yeah. I am."

Domeric walked with him, unspeaking. It felt a little weird at first, and yet he didn't seem displeased by the situation. Domeric studied him with his pale gray eyes, looking out amongst the other students for a moment then back to Viserys.

"So what else do you know about Rhaegar?" Viserys asked as casually as he could manage. He didn't want it to seem like a big deal or anything, but he had always hated how little he knew about his brother. With Rhaegar and his father locked away without visitation and his mother missing there was no one who knew much left. He had a few family photos he and Daenerys had been given and nothing more.

"He was quiet, but accomplished," Domeric said, a sudden sadness entering his voice. "The only thing he loved more than his studies was Summerhall. I found a song he was composing titled for it."

Viserys frowned a bit as they stood outside the new Tyrell Cafeteria together. He had only seen photos of the ruins and had never been there.

"I've been practicing it for class if you'd like to hear it," Domeric added gently, tilting his head slightly.

"I would..."

Domeric held the door open for Viserys as they entered the building. It was a change to see someone giving his brother the attention he deserved for once. There had been so much to him, much more than the highrise apartment and a missing girl.

They each swiped their meal cards as they entered, and Domeric stopped to greet the girl working at the booth. She had short dark hair, cropped in a boyish cut, and bright blue eyes. Her ears and brow were pierced in a manner far too tomboyish for Viserys' tastes.

"Hey Dom," she chirped. Viserys eyed over her briefly. She seemed loud and brash, not like someone Domeric would chose to associate himself with.

"How are you, Mya?" he asked. "Mychel's been looking for you, you know."

"I'll bet he has," she said with a wry smile. Domeric seemed equally removed and formal with her as he was Viserys even though he clearly knew her. Her laugh came easy and natural and Viserys felt oddly jealous for a moment.

"I'm good. Tell Mychel I'm doing fine. I'll text him when my shifts over," she added.

"Of course. I'll see you at the suite then."

Domeric nodded and stepped into the food service area, and Viserys stepped up to the card reader. He fumbled a bit as he swiped his card, too busy staring back at Mya. She must have been friends with someone Domeric knew or something like that, because the thought of them being friends seemed so off. Something about the way Domeric kept his distance...

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," she muttered as he walked away, swiftly trailing after Domeric. He nudged next to him in line, placing down his plastic tray. Domeric had already placed some overcooked looking spinach and brown rice on his plate. The cafeteria food here had gotten better since the Tyrells had donated to the school, but it was still college food.

"Who was that?" Viserys asked, examining a sad looking pizza.

"Mya Stone. She's on her work study shift right now." Domeric paused, picking up a translucent yet sepia toned plastic cup. He flicked it around a few times checking the inside. "She's seeing my suite-mate Mychel."

Domeric didn't seem enthused by the prospect.

Viserys finally settled on which of many dubious slices he wanted as Domeric poured himself a glass of seltzer water from the drink machine. He plucked the three least offensive looking from the display and squished them together on his plate.

Domeric looked down at the slices of pizza.

"You eat like my brother does," he noted. He sounded fonder than Viserys had heard him ever speak thus far.

"You have a brother?"

"He's technically my half-brother," Domeric clarified, placing some napkins onto Viserys' tray. "You'll need these."

Viserys chuckled, and tried to think of something natural to say. He wasn't used to someone thinking about stuff like that for him, but it was surprisingly pleasant.

"I know, right? The food here is so greasy...."

"I'll get us a table," Domeric continued.

"Great."

Domeric opted for a table by the window. There was a view of the rugby field and a few players were running around the field. A boy with blonde curly hair was knocked to the ground by another hooded player, tall and broad shouldered, as they sat down.


	2. Photograph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys finishes dinner with Domeric then looks at some family photos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [art by thatgirlwhodraws](http://thatgirlwhodraws.tumblr.com/post/91719079289/illustration-for-chapter-2-of-a-common-history-by)

Viserys dug into his pizza while Domeric shifted the spinach and rice on his plate idly. The pizza didn't taste like much of anything, which was odd considering it still had pizzas consistency. It was overall a distressing experience.

"So what are you doing in Perestan's class?" Viserys asked.

"I'm double majoring into history as well," Domeric replied. "You?"

"Political science is enough for me."

Domeric nodded in response. It was nice to eat with someone who had manners for once. Dany's friends all ate sloppily. One time one of Drogo's friends intentionally put hot sauce in his food while he wasn't looking.

"So you'd like to go into politics like your father?" Domeric continued.

"Yeah...."

Domeric ate his spinach and rice in small bites. Viserys wasn't sure what else to talk about. He liked Domeric though. He wasn't crude like other people and he respected Viserys' name and family. It wasn't so much to ask for, and yet it seemed so hard to find in people.

"What time do you have class tomorrow? I'll be free around five," Domeric offered.

"My chem lab with Cressen goes from three to five thirty."

"That'll give me some more time to do homework then. Meet me outside the conservatory?" Domeric smiled a bit when he asked.

The pizza was making Viserys' stomach feel off but he nodded in agreement.

"Here. Put your contact in my cell and I'll text you."

Domeric slid his phone across the table. It was a Spider, but not the most recent one like Viserys had. His wallpaper was a photo of him, an older man to his left, and a guy who must of been around Viserys' age. The man looked a good deal like Domeric, and the three of them all had the same weird colored eyes.

"Is that your family?" Viserys asked.

"Yeah. My mother took that the day I left," Domeric answered. Domeric's brother looked a lot less like him and his father, both in build and expression. His father was stone faced, with a hint of pride only in his mouth. His half-brother had a wide grin and his arm slung round Domeric's waist. He and his father were each dressed in button up shirts, while his younger brother had a t-shirt with illegible text and a zombie removing it's own intestines on it.

Viserys entered his number. The only family photos he had anymore were in  scrapbook he had made and the ones of Dany on Facebook. He'd bookmarked those back at his home computer.

When Domeric took his phone back he moved to text Viserys quickly, then paused, reading something.

"I should get going.... I need to make a phone call," he said, suddenly solemn. "I'll see you tomorrow though, right?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow."

Domeric lifted his tray. His food was only partially eaten. Viserys watched him as he left. He'd come and gone so suddenly, but so much had happened within that time. He'd hear his brother's song tomorrow. He imagined it would be beautiful. His father said Rhaegar was a brilliant composer and everyone he'd ever brought it up to agreed.

Viserys threw out the rest of his pizza. He'd eat those gummy peaches after all. Thinking about Dany's photos had made him eager to re-visit them.

He headed back to his dorm quickly. If Doreah was around it might be better to start off with the photos then finish with her. She was approximately Dany's height and build, and he cold give her a few extra meal swipes this time.

Viserys slid into his chair on getting back to his dorm room and sent Doreah a quick text as he opened his browser.

_Come by tonight?_

He sat back idly, running his hand down to the button of his pants while he loaded the first of Dany's pictures. There was the one of her at the beach he actually took himself first. Dany was in her blue bikini, and some sand was still on her thighs. He remembered how much e had wanted her that day. Her silvery hair was tied back, and the sight of her smooth stomach had left him half hard all day. As his hand began to slip down into his own pants Doreah texted him back.

_I'll be by soon. Also you'll be glad to know my autocorrect finally recognizes Meraxes._

Viserys smiled and let out a puffed breath as his fingers wrapped around his cock. His father had told him about the dragons his family had once had and each of their names. When he was younger he had entertained the notion of making Dany get them tattooed along her body in all the places he liked best.

He switched to the one of Dany's prom dress next. He had put her into a bra that pressed her breasts together, so that even though they were relatively small she still had cleavage then. He liked to think of the way her breasts would have bounced if she rode him, her slender waist between his hands.

There was a knock on the door, and the sound of Doreah's voice.

"Viserys, it's me...."

"The door's....open," Viserys answered, trying not to groan.

Doreah smiled and let out a breathy laugh as she looked over Viserys. Her eyes drifted to the screen then back to Viserys.

"Use your mouth. I'm already close."

Doreah walked over to him, a slight swing in her hips as he rotated the chair to face her. Her slender fingers rested on his thighs. It felt so good to be actually touched after the build up of tension from his own work. Doreah's lips circled around him and he let out a low moan. It wasn't long till he had come in her mouth. She swallowed as she always did.

"That all you wanted?" she asked. Viserys ran a hand through her hair, his mind still fuzzy.

"Do you want my cock or money?" he asked, going through his desk drawer to find his cash.

Doreah took the collection of twenties and left him swiftly. Viserys went to bed, wondering what Rhaegar would have thought of this. If things went as they should have, they likely would have shared their sister. He always had to share her with someone.


	3. Score

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viserys meets up with Domeric. Not everything goes as expected.

Professor Cressen spoke as slow as molasses, and insisted on answering every question in extreme detail. Combined with Samwell, the four-eyed ultimate frisbee playing fuck he was, constantly asking about the mechanisms of different interactions, Viserys had become livid. Why was he even on the ultimate frisbee team? The only reason he seemed to find was his idiotic hero worship of Ned Stark's bastard. He ought to break his glasses. Thankfully, Mel (the weird red headed patchface obsessed girl from his major) had been assigned as his partner and the two of them had tested what colors different chemical burned.

The second five thirty hit Viserys left. If Samwell wanted to stay behind and drool over Cressen's ramblings for extra credit he very well could, but Viserys had more important things to be doing. Mel stayed behind, but Viserys suspected it was the excuse to commit minor acts of arson more than her rigorous academic spirit. He was pretty sure she'd been held back a few times, she'd been in her sophomore year as long as he could remember. 

As he walked across campus, the image of the flames stuck with him. It was a fitting activity for the day. As children the three of them had lit bonfires in the backyard and Rhaegar would hang a sheet from the laundry lines. He'd tell them stories like that, his cast shadows becoming immense dragons and the brave men who rode them. It was a bittersweet feeling, but there was an erotic edge to it as well. He and Dany would snuggle together in the cold and Rhaegar would kiss them both on the forehead. Dragons weren't made to rule alone.

Outside the conservatory, Domeric was leaned against a moped that was presumably his. It was a a pale, cotton candyish pink, and he cradled a dark red helmet in his off hand. A messenger bag with slung across his shoulder, and his hair was slightly tousled from his helmet. The combined factors gave a casual handsome affect, like something out a of a boy band production. He wondered if Domeric was smart enough that the whole aesthetic had been pre-planned.

"There you are," Domeric said. He sounded happy. It was kind of weird considering they were still strangers, but it was nice to be noticed. People ought to notice him.

Viserys tried to think of something casual to say. 

"So you rehearse here a lot?" he asked. The building was incredibly ugly. He couldn't imagine Rhaegar spending time around something so ugly. If he had been around now maybe it would have been remodeled by now with the attention his recitals would have brought.

"Everyday. I spend half the time on scales and warm ups then the other half on my pieces." Domeric began to lead him inside. "After you master scales everything else falls together. It's frankly the best strategy, you see?"

Viserys didn't. 

"I suppose so," he lied.

The inside of the building smelled like carpet glue, and the visuals did little to improve the experience. A billboard was crowded with dates and photos regarding upcoming concerts, but none struck Viserys as worth his attention. Domeric didn't bother acknowledging them either, swiftly leading him to the bowels of the building. The practice spaces were seemingly identical rooms and the same yellowy overhead lights repeated down the maze of corridors.

Domeric didn't bother speaking, and Viserys was too busy imaging Rhaegar here to bother with idle chatter. Finally, Domeric came to a room with a combination lock and undid it.

A harp dominated most of the room's cramped quarters, a stand for sheet music next to it. It was a large instrument, though not as large as he remembered Rhaegar's being. Domeric excitedly shuffled through his messenger bag, pulling out several essays and collected scores. Even his more manic phases were eerily quiet. Viserys eyed the documents casually. Domeric seemed rather the egghead despite his cool entrance.

"Is that your essay for Perestan's class?" he asked off handedly. "I haven't wasted my time starting it yet, considering he's too blind to read."

A sudden change swept over Domeric and he paused. He quickly inserted the scores back into his bag and looked over his shoulder at Viserys. His voice took on an increased intensity.

"It's due in two days. You're telling me that you can write a paper deftly handling the subtlety of Northern history in two days."

"I...." 

Viserys had clearly struck a nerve, and didn't expect such an overdramatic response. Domeric's eyes narrowed.

 "Consider this little concert of ours cancelled. We are going to the library and not leaving until you have a paper worthy of the subject," he insisted. This was clearly not a request. Viserys didn't take orders, but Domeric was clearly unhinged and would likely write the paper for him.

Domeric looked off in thought for a moment and something in his presence softened.

"It's what Rhaegar would have wanted for you. He was a brilliant student after all," Domeric explained, reorganizing his things. "I couldn't possibly play his opus after disrespecting his memory."

Viserys felt small at that. What could Domeric know of Rhaegar that his own brother didn't? He was presumptuous and bossy, but beneath all that he was right. That made Viserys even angrier, his hands forming into tight balls.

"I'll order takeout after and everything. Whatever you want," Domeric offered, placing his hand suddenly on Viserys' shoulder.

"Fine," Viserys grumbled, trying to make it seem like the food had won him over.

Domeric led him through the halls effortlessly.

"You're thin. You could probably fit on the Vespa with me."

At this point Viserys was resigned to his whims. As Domeric revved the engine, Viserys uneasily straddled the remaining space of the seat.

"You'll need to hold on," Domeric noted, placing his helmet over his head. Viserys frowned. He didn't like touching people, but it was a necessity at this rather literal point in the road. 

His arms slid around Domeric's waist and his chest settled into the leather jacket he wore for riding. He had more muscle than he looked like and there was a faintly sweet scent to him. It was not as unpleasant as he expected, but Viserys was not particularly fond of the way it looked. He ought to be driving. Viserys clenched him tighter with the first movement. Today had become an embarrassing disaster.

"Don't worry, I used to have my brother ride like this. I know how to handle it," Domeric assured him. 

"It's fine," Viserys snapped.

"Of course." Domeric seemed amused. The putter of the Vespa put an end to their chatter.

 


End file.
